


Heads and Hugs

by Vampy



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Ghosts, Heads, M/M, Sadstuck, WTF am I writing?, Why do I write sad things?, pbj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampy/pseuds/Vampy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He struggles all the time.<br/>You shouldn't feel bad for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heads and Hugs

**Author's Note:**

> asdfghjkl;  
> Nothing I write is ever happen god dangit.

"I get kinda lonely sometimes, y'know."  
Gamzee leans forwards, his forehead touching yours. His indigo eyes are half closed, and a blank look is painted on his face- the fake smile smeared in grey and white does nothing to soften the hardened expression on his plainly somber, sober face. The usually chipper gaze holds nothing but bridled rage and sadness and this terrible look that makes you want to crush him into a warm hug. But you don't move.

"I know Gamzee, I uh, I get that way too sometimes."  
You offer those words to him, but he doesn't move, doesn't register that you've said anything. The look on his face resembles a kicked barkbeast baby- complete with an occasional shiver, matted hair, and strange stains covering his body. He smells like dirt and sweat and the horrible stench of perigee old blood. For a few moments, he doesn't say anything. He curls up and your head rests on his knees, no longer touching his.

"…Karkat and I ain't moirails no more. BROTHER DIDN'T UP AND MOTHERFUCKING WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH MOTHERFUCKING ME."  
The sudden yell makes you flinch and Gamzee whimpers a bit, bottom lip wobbling. You didn't know about that- you didn't know about the indigo blood losing his diamond. A pang strikes you, right in your blood pusher, and you open your mouth to speak. A rough, lilting voice interrupts you without meaning to.

"M'sorry Tavbro. I'm sorry for yelling'. SORRY FOR GETTING MY MOTHERFUCKING YELL-" he hesitated, then continued. "My motherfucking yell on. M'sorry for hiding in these vents, but I gotta otherwise the jade blooded sis'll cut this motherfucker wide open, WIDE MOTH-erfucking open."  
You wince at the struggle he's having- struggling to control those chuckle voodoos of his. You'd do anything to be able to help him get rid of those terrible things, terror causing, horrible voices and visions and urges and psychic powers. Moreso, you flinch at the mention of Kanaya; someone who was a relatively motherly figure despite having cut your legs off- you wish she didn't want to kill Gamzee.

"I'm sorry for killin' the blue blooded motherfucker, even though his FUCKING BLASPHEMOUS-" Gamzee stopped himself, and took a few deep breaths. You weren't quite sure why he was only calm while talking to you- then again you used to get really freaked out whenever he would babble on about the fate awaiting 'blasphemous motherfuckers'.

"And kitty sis. Damn, never meant to all up and kill the poor bitch."   
You watch as the troll before you touches his scars, there to remind him of the death of someone who needn't die. It crosses your mind that Nepeta probably would've died regardless- Equius WAS life to that girl.

"But…"  
Your eyes widen at the sight of tears falling down the juggalo's face. His eyes clench shut, and he hugs your disembodied head to his chest. Even though he can't feel you- you're just a ghost outside of the dream bubbles- you hug him all the same.  
"I-I'm sorry that I wasn't motherfuckin there when you needed me. I WASN'T MOTHERFUCKING THERE."

All you want is for Gamzee to be happy, to feel your embraces, but he avoids dream bubbles like the plague and out here all you can do is drop the temperature of a room. He cries and cries and all you can do is hug him and pretend that he can feel you. In the back of your head, you know that the only comfort he has is the cold, heavy weight of a head in his lap- no warmth, diamonds or hearts, no arms to hold him. Just cold metal and empty gestures.

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and sometimes you don't really like being dead.


End file.
